Do As the Ancient Kings Say Continued
by Aithril the Elf-Maiden
Summary: A continuation of Do As The Ancient Kings Say for the second bookmovie. Please read the first part before reading this so it will make sense. Read and Review!
1. A Labyrinth, Time of Month, & Nightmares

In a time far beyond our own, From a different land and different home, An elf will come that is the one, None will be right till her deed is done.  
  
Blood is the color of her hair, Her face is perilous and fair, Dark green is the color of her eyes, Do not fear; they speak no lies.  
  
She will help achieve the quest, Set upon the very best Of dwarves, elves, and bravest men, Together, a Fellowship of Ten.  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own this. Just Aithril. That's about it.  
  
oos: Sorry it took me so long to write this. I've been having some trouble with the plot. However, I think I have it figured out now, so enjoy the chapter! I promise to update within a week, unless I go on vacation or something. Then, I'll have my good friend, Kita, post it. :D Enjoy! By the way, there's a little humor in this chapter that could be considered disgusting by any other person.  
  
Oh, and please read Do As the Ancient Kings Say if you haven't already before you read this. Otherwise, a lot of it won't make sense.  
  
"....." = Speaking *.....* = Private Thoughts /....../ = the Ring  
  
A Labyrinth, that TIME of MONTH, and Nightmares come true  
  
"Curse this maze of rocks!" Frodo suddenly shouted in frustration.  
  
"Shhh, Mr. Frodo." cautioned Sam. "If you wish to curse the rocks, at least do so with less volume."  
  
The pair had wound through the labyrinth with weary, dragging steps - only to come to yet another dead end.  
  
"A good thought," Frodo gritted his teeth. "But it has been a long while indeed since I had passed the point of caring. I feel as though we are marching in dizzying, endless circles, doomed to wander through these rocks until our dying day!" He gripped the Ring tightly as he spoke, nearly breaking it off it's chain.  
  
If Sam noticed, he did not comment. "Don't despair, sir, we can acheive our quest. I can feel it right here!" He thumped himself lightly on the chest with a curled fist. "We'll manage."  
  
"Perhaps we will," Frodo sighed. "Choose the next path, Sam. I have not the heart."  
  
Worry lines deepened like canyons along the younger hobbit's forehead, but he nodded. "Aye, follow me." Sam bounded enthusiatically down another trail, slowing down only to see if his master was coming. Then he started on again, weaving his way between rocks to establish a way of passage through them.  
  
Frodo smiled weakly at the other hobbit's antics, but it slowly downgraded to a frown. *How can he be so light of heart, when we are doomed, on our way to doom, and leaving doom behind?* he wondered. He glanced down at the Ring. It's cold surface was pressed against his bare skin, and through it seemed to radiate a sense of gloominess, of utter hopelessness and despair. *Perhaps it is just the Ring,* he suggested, but something beat back that thought at once.  
  
For a moment, Frodo had the sudden urge to place it on his finger, to wear it and play tricks on Sam, to laugh and run away. /What's the worst that could possibly happen?/ something said slyly. /Not only can you play tricks, but the master will not see you./  
  
The master! He jerked awake from his thoughts. The Ring was saying this. It had nearly convinced him, but made the mistake of referring to the Dark Lord as it's master. Frodo shuddered.  
  
"Come, Mr. Frodo." called Sam back cheerily, unawake of Frodo's torment. "I think I may have found the way ou- oh dear."  
  
Frodo rounded the corner Sam had taken to meet up with another blank face of stone.  
  
"Dead end," Sam mumbled, good cheer lost. He sat down and placed his pack beside him, yawning.  
  
Frodo yawned as well. "Sam, perhaps we should rest," He leaned his hot forehead against the cool stone.  
  
"Good thinking, sir. Just for a moment...." The hobbit's eyes slowly closed as they passed into blissful dreamland.  
  
***  
  
"Please..... let's..... rest.... just a..... minute!" Aithril gasped, clutching at a stitch in her side.  
  
Legolas stopped to help her. "You were fine a minute ago," he commented worridly.  
  
"I wasn't.... not breathing..... a minute ago...." She stuttered, and attempted to breathe normally. Aragorn stopped and returned to her also. Gimli, who had been lagging even further behind than Aithril, finally caught up.  
  
"I................ say........... we.............. rest." He flopped down onto the ground and almost immediately began snoring loudly, as is the habit of dwarves.  
  
Aithril chuckled slightly as she regained her breath, but winced a little bit anyway. "Let's just rest for ten minutes." she pleaded with Aragorn, giving him a puppy eyes face. The man reluctantly nodded and she continued. "Is there any water nearby? I need to bathe desparately."  
  
"I'm afraid not," he replied, raising his eyebrows. Aithril was completely unlike any other elf maiden he had ever met, in the respect that she almost never fussed over her hair or complained. It was out of her nature to ask for a bath in the middle of a chase.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" he asked. She blushed and muttered something. "What?" he asked confused and she turned about three shades darker.  
  
Legolas frowned. "Excuse us," he said, pulling Aithril out of the others' hearing. "What is it?" he inquired softly. "Come, you must tell me. Your discomfort is obvious."  
  
"Well... I...." The red-haired elf looked at her feet in embarassment. Legolas gently took hold of her chin and tilted it upwards. "You can trust me."  
  
"It's so.... embarassing...." she muttered. "It's my, my, my-" She broke off giggling. "Ok, I'll say it. My time of month."  
  
Legolas' eyes widened, but he chuckled. "That is natural," he assured her. "It is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you need... anything?"  
  
"Yes, actually. Where I come from - this is so embarassing...." Aithril muttered again. "we have pads to catch the blood, but, ah, I ran out. I had some in my pack, but I used them all."  
  
"Quite a predicament," Legolas laughed softly. "If you look in that small grouping of trees over there, you will find what you need,"  
  
The elf began walking back towards the others, then stopped and turned back to face Aithril, a look of realization dawning on his face. "I knew it was not like you to have tired so easily. You have cramps!"  
  
Aithril looked around hastily. "Not so loudly!" she hissed, blushing out a fresh wave of color.  
  
Legolas swung the pack he had been carrying off his back and knelt down to rummage through it. "Ahh, here it is!" he said, holding up a cloth bag. He undid the strings that bound together the top and pulled out some leaves.  
  
"Eat one now and the pain will be gone until this time tomorrow," Legolas instructed, stuffing the leaves back in the bag and handing it to Aithril.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered and stood on her tip-toes to press her lips gently against his. A channel of electricity coursed through both their veins. Then, without another word, she loped off to the group of trees.  
  
Legolas allowed himself to stand stunned with a silly grin on his face for a minute more. Then he returned to Aragorn and Gimli.  
  
Gimli was still fast asleep by a small fire. Aragorn looked at Legolas curiously, but when the elf did not meet his gaze, dropped the matter entirely.  
  
Aithril returned some time later with a full smile gracing her features for the first time in two days. She mouthed a thanks to Legolas and he smiled in return.  
  
Aragorn watched her spread her bedroll out next to Legolas but did not say anything. He was smiling inside.  
  
***  
  
Merry groaned as he woke from a nightmare. He had dreamed that Boromir had died and he and Pippin were captured by orcs. How funny! He almost giggled in a sleep-deprived and pain-filled way as he realized it was reality.  
  
A cold wave of fear washed over him as he opened his eyes to a horrible sight.  
  
Pippin was laid out nearby, trussed and bound just like him.  
  
Orcs roamed the camp around him, growling and arguing around each other in a most disgusting picture.  
  
He closed his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep where things weren't as real.  
  
oos: So? You like? Is it better than the first one? Please review and tell me! :D 


	2. Musings of a Ranger

Oos: I am so sorry I haven't updated! Not only would my computer not connect (twitch) (growl)but I had a humongous case of writer's block. And I mean huge. I sat at my computer for an hour and I couldn't type a frickin word! Lol, I'm over that now.... so on with the more-than-late chappie! (winces) Oooh, that sounded cheesy............  
  
Musings of a Ranger  
  
Aragorn glanced at Aithril as she walked next to Legolas, red hair swaying from shoulder to shoulder in a loose braid. The maiden was chatting endlessly on about something to Legolas and he was nodding eagerly. Aragorn had a feeling that Legolas wasn't really listening to her banter, but basking in her attention.  
  
He smiled at the dreamy look on his friend's face and the flushed and excited grin on Aithril's.  
  
Aragorn's smile gradually morphed into a frown of thought. *Why is she here?* Aragorn wondered to himself for the millionth time.*What has she come to help us with? And what will be the consequences when she completes her mission? Does she even know that her fate has been sung in song for thousands of years?*  
  
The Ranger's thoughts were cut short as he abruptly tripped over the upraised root of a lone tree. He landed hard on his rear. "Oof!" he muttered as he picked himself up off the ground.  
  
"Aragorn!" Legolas said in surprise and amusement. The Man was usually as graceful as he.  
  
"Are you all right?" Aithril asked while trying not to snort with barely held-in laughter.  
  
"Go ahead." said Aragorn wryly as he noticed their discomfort. "Laugh."  
  
Aithril immediately complied and dissolved into giggles. These were followed by low chuckles from Legolas. After about a minute, Aithril wiped her eyes, which had teared over in mirth.  
  
"Ha, ok, ok, I'm done," she wheezed, holding her lower stomach. Legolas nodded his head in agreement, frowning as he noticed her.  
  
*Cramps* he realized, hiding a smile behind his hand. "Let's sit and rest for a minute," Legolas suggested, and Aragorn nodded in thanks. This would give him enough time to regain his dignity.  
  
Five minutes later, Gimli approached at a slow jog. "I'm here.................. never................. fear...... ahhhhhhhh-" He collapsed in front of the trio and closed his eyes, silently blessing the ground for holding his body instead of his feet.  
  
Aithril shook her head in wonder and Man and Elf grinned. "A little too fast for you, eh?" Aragorn ventured innocently.  
  
"Should we slow our pace?" continued Legolas, guffawing under his breath.  
  
There was a noticeable silence as they waited for Aithril. She was still laughing.  
  
"Hehehehe........ um, what?" The maiden asked, oblivious to their teasing. All three (yes, even Gimli) groaned. Aragorn hid his face in his hands and Legolas got up to pound his head against a convenient tree. Gimli just closed his eyes and pressed his face to the cool earth.  
  
***  
  
A figure robed in black glided over steep and rock-ridden hills that would have taken mortals many days to scale. But he wasn't a mortal, now was he?  
  
He floated silently to the base of a hill and found two hobbits sleeping peacefully. One was sitting in an attempt to keep watch, he knew, but it had not worked. It had fallen asleep as had the other.  
  
The other was who he was interested in. "Frodo Baggins," he hissed the name as quietly as a breeze may pass through a curtain on a windy day. That hobbit was the one with the Ring....... His Ring! He needed it now!  
  
The figure clenched his hands into fists of fury before making a concious effort to relax. He would have it soon. It mattered not that Baggins possessed it now.  
  
He soared up the hill and closed his eyes to remember the vision. He opened them again. *Ah yes,* he thought in triumph. *Right...... here.*  
  
He picked up a round stone and placed it at a precise and planned angle along the slope.  
  
The black-robed figure stepped back to admire his handiwork. He grinned, a grin of terrible corruption and evil. He left as silently as he had come.  
  
***  
  
"My....... precioussssssssss," a creature whispered, using it's feet as well as it's hands to navigate it safely down the incline. "Soon we will have the precious, gollum, and we will be tricksy and hide from the fierce sun once more, feeding on the delightful fishes. Curse the Bagginses!" he spat suddenly. "Curse them and may their bones rotses in- argh-"  
  
Gollum's nimble fingers and feet failed to help him as he slipped on a round stone that had been sitting directly in his path a moment before, as if waiting for him to arrive, as if fate had brought this rock and this creature together to make the dividing point between victory and loss.  
  
He opened his mouth to let out a silent shriek as he tumbled down the hill towards the two hobbits. Then a large rock in his way diverted him from this course to slide down another small hill and speed-  
  
Off a cliff.  
  
Now Gollum screeched, a high pitched wail that echoed errily of the walls of the cliffs surrounding his. Silence found it's place once more as he realized his doom. This absense of noise continued until Gollum's spine snapped with an audible crack among the sharp rocks below.  
  
His eyes slowly glazed over in death, as he murmured a final word: "Preciousssss......"  
  
If only it were only as if.  
  
***  
  
Sam awoke with a start, thinking he had heard a noise. He listened carefully, straining his ears to hear even the smallest of sounds, even as they began ringing.  
  
"Perhaps it was just the wind," he breathed quietly, so as not to wake Frodo. Sam propped himself back up against the rocks to keep awake. Within seconds he was fast asleep again.  
  
***  
  
"You! Up on your feet!" An orc cry reached Pippin's ears as if from a long distance, yet he felt himself being hauled up roughly.  
  
"Umphhmphmph...." He muttered, his eyes fluttering open weakly.  
  
"We can't carry these halflings the whole way!" One orc complained.  
  
"Weakling!" sneered another. "I could carry five of them on ten of these journies without stopping to rest.  
  
"Just force them the tonic," snapped an official-looking orc - if you can describe on as official. "It will revive them enough to run."  
  
"Here," said the first orc, propping Pippin up against a tree and shoving a bottle into his mouth. The hobbit gagged as a burning liquid coursed it's way down his throat.  
  
"It's not exactly ale, but it will do!" jeered the second, picking up Merry and pouring the foul concoction down his throat. Merry swallowed it unconciously and the orc picked up Merry, swinging him over his shoulder and running to gather some equipment.  
  
Even as he continued to drink it, Pippin could feel life and vigor returning to his weary limbs.  
  
"Now! Move out!" ordered the official. The band of orcs reluctantly began trotting in the direction of Isengard.  
  
"Get in the middle, halfling!" commanded a new orc. Pippin obeyed, eyeing the mace the beast had slung casually over it's shoulder.  
  
The snap of a whip jolted his attention back to the official. "March!" he cried. "And if you don't you'll have to face the bite of this!" He sent a lash in Pippin's direction, barely missing him. The hobbit yelped to make the orc think he had received the blow and continued running.  
  
But he was quickly getting tired and the orcs had barely started.  
  
Oos: Good? Yes? No? TELL ME PLEASE! ^_^ Again, I'm so sorry for the delay! :D 


	3. Approaching Riders, Heavy Packs, and an ...

oos: Hey! Here's a new chappie, yeah! It's so hard to write this, but I enjoy it anyway. Lol, I love this chapter- it has humor, action, and a tincy tiny bit of romance! WOO-HOO! ^_^  
  
And, it is essential for me to focus on the other characters (other than Aithril, I mean) because they are all crucial to the eventual plot. From now on, I'll try to make their parts shorter though, as was suggested by someone. (I'm too lazy to look) Enjoy!  
  
Approaching Riders, Heavy Packs, and an Orc Battle  
  
Sam eventually roused himself enough to stand up and stretch. He glanced down at his feet and saw he had narrowly avoided trodding on his sleeping master. Though Sam wanted Frodo to sleep all he could, the sun would soon be high in the sky, and he wanted to go at least a league or two before the heat of the day.  
  
"Frodo! Mr. Frodo!" Sam called, gently shaking his sleeping friend. Frodo's eyelids twitched and opened a crack.  
  
"Is it morning already?" asked the sleepy hobbit.  
  
"Indeed it is, sir, and we must be moving along," Sam smiled at him. He helped Frodo to his feet and fussed a bit with their packs. He handed one to the other hobbit and swung his own up onto his back.  
  
Frodo took the bag and swung it over his shoulder. It felt suspiciously light.  
  
"Sam!" he said sternly. The younger boy looked up innocently.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"You've given yourself all the heavy things again! My pack is light as a feather!"  
  
"Nonsense, sir. But I'm glad it feels that way." Sam said cheerfully. "Let' s be off!" With Frodo still protesting, he lead his master down the hill and into a wide canyon.  
  
***  
  
Merry flopped onto the ground, too tired to move as the orcs made camp. Pippin struggled wearily to his friend and they closed their eyes gratefully, hoping to catch sleep while they still could.  
  
***  
  
It seemed to the two hobbits that they had just closed their eyes when a rough hand shook them violently awake.  
  
They could hear cries and shouts closeby - battle cries! Merry focused on the orc who had woken them.  
  
"Where is it?" he hissed, opening various pockets in the hobbit's cloaks in search of something. "It's got to be here, that's why we're saving them!"  
  
Pippin suddenly understood. "You won't find it that way, oh no, my precioussssssssss," he said in a fair imitation of the newly-deceased Gollum.  
  
The orc looked up, eyes gleaming dreadfully. "What? Find what?!" he demanded, grabbing Pippin by the shoulders.  
  
"It's not easy to find. But we'll tell you if you untie us," put in Merry, catching onto Pippin's plan.  
  
"What? What's not easy to find?" the orc asked suddenly, feigning innocent dumbness. His captives were not fooled.  
  
"Gollum gollum!" cried Pippin.  
  
"Untie us!" urged Merry.  
  
The light of a torch suddenly swept over them and the orc glanced up fearfully. The light stopped on him and a shout was heard. The orc grabbed the hobbits to his sides and ran, spear clanking to the edge of Fanghorn Forest.  
  
A horse galloped almost straight at the orc, and he drew his sword. No doubt, this was to kill his captives before they were saved. However, this was his undoing. The flash alerted the archers to his presence, and he fell with three hours protruding from his chest.  
  
With no orc watching, the hobbits quickly untied themselves. Horses paraded by with tall men on their backs, but none stepped on the unobserved survivers of the battle. Pippin took a small package of lembas out of his pocket and wordlessly handed half to Merry. He nodded and bit into the bread, savoring the taste of decent food.  
  
The lembas was soon gone. When Pippin began crawling into the forest to escape the ever watching archers, Merry did not object and followed.  
  
***  
  
"Wait," said Legolas, throwing a hand in front of them to halt. He shaded his eyes and peered across the open plains of Rohan that they had crossed into the morning before yesterday.  
  
Aragorn cast himself upon the ground to listen and was rewarded with the strong, heavy thumps of hooves - many of them! - growing louder every second.  
  
Aithril squinted to the blur that was moving rapidly towards them. Suddenly, her eyes focused and she was able to make out a hundred and five riders traveling towards them with a tall leader in the front.  
  
The Ranger sprang up from his grassy bed and announced, "There are many riders coming towards us!"  
  
Aithril rolled her eyes. "Duh! There are 105 riders, and their leader is a very tall guy."  
  
"Most of them have golden hair, too," Legolas added helpfully. Aragorn shook his head in amazement.  
  
"Keen are the eyes of the elves," he praised.  
  
"Nay, the riders are little more than five leagues distant." protested the elf and Aithril smiled at him.  
  
"Five leagues or one," Gimli said. "we cannot escape them in this bare land. Shall we wait for them here or go on our way?"  
  
"We will wait," answered Aragorn and Aithril nodded in agreement before plopping down on the ground. The Man smiled grimly at her. "We are weary, and our hunt has failed; or at least others are before us, for these horsemen are riding back down the orc trail. We may get news from them."  
  
"Or spears," Gimli spoke under his breath.  
  
"Shush!" chided Aithril. "Be of light heart, Gimli son of Gloin, son of GROIN!" she cracked up as the dwarf turned red, muttering something that had to do with 'family names' and 'immature elf maidens'. Legolas hid a smile out of respect for his comrad.  
  
Aragorn ignored them and continued watching the approaching horses and men. He sat down on a log. "We wait."  
  
**Half an hour later**  
  
Legolas sat with his back against a boulder, fingers absentmindedly twirling through Aithril's hair. She was - erm, had been sitting next to him, but began to doze almost as soon as there was a minute of silence.  
  
Gimli was sprawled out on the ground in front of him, snoring loudly. He murmured something in his sleep, rolling over to clutch his axe like a teddy bear.  
  
A snort of barely-muffled laughter escaped Aragorn as he caught sight of the dwarf.  
  
**Two hours later**  
  
Aithril had gradually stretched out onto the ground, her head in Legolas's lap. The Elf was resting, walking in the land of dreams, but not sleeping. Gimli was breathing quietly now, content for the moment.  
  
This peace was shattered as the shouts of Riders carried over the plains.  
  
"Come," commanded Aragorn. "Let's walk out into the open." Legolas gently shook Aithril awake. She yawned and walked over to Gimli.  
  
"Wake up!" she hissed in his ear.  
  
The dwarf did not move.  
  
"Wake up!" she said, louder this time.  
  
Still no reaction.  
  
"Wake up!" she shouted and kicked him lightly in the side.  
  
Gimli jolted awake at once. "That's nice, kicking a sleeping dwarf in the side," he grumbled, scrambling clumsily to his feet. Aithril laughed as he ran smack into the boulder. "Easy for YOU to chuckle at," he started, but was silenced with a ferocious glance from Legolas.  
  
Aragorn was waiting impatiently for them to follow, so when they emerged from behind the enormous rock, he strode off to wait in the open for the riders.  
  
Soon, the leader of the riders came close enough to touch. He had a long sword dangling from his belt, and a shield strapped to his back. His hair swirled back behind him as did his cloak, black and billowing. A sheet of mail hung down to his knees and clanked gently with the gait of the horse. The Man swept by them, eyes seeming to pass over them entirely.  
  
Men rode in pairs behind him, adorned in the same manner as their leader. Their horses were spectacular, and of a graceful, but enormous stature to fit the Men's long legs. Each horses' mane was braided and it's tail let loose for the wind to guide.  
  
Quickly, they soared by, a gentle disturbance on the breeze. The group would have skipped over the four remaining members of the Fellowship completely had not Aragorn straightened up and called out, "What news from the North, Riders of the Mark?"  
  
oos: Hope you liked it! See the little button down there?  
  
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Review! ^_^ 


	4. Insults Galore, a Nasty Dead Body, and a...

oos: Such.... little... INSPIRATION! (tries to rip out hair) Ow! (mutters) That hurt....... anyway, it's SNOWING! ^_^ YAYYYYYYYYYY!  
  
Insults Galore, a Nasty Dead Body, and a Creepy-Deepy Forest  
  
The Riders skillfully spun the horses on their haunches to face the four figures and the ones that had already passed circled back and around until the remainder of the Fellowship was surrounded.  
  
The leader's horse stepped forward, staring at them suspiciously.  
  
"Who are you and what are you doing in this land?"  
  
Aithril wrinkled her nose in distaste at the man's attitude. She caught Legolas's eye and mouthed, "He needs to take it down a notch."  
  
A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it and Aragorn sent a swift glare in the elf's direction. The Man took it upon himself to answer for the group.  
  
"I am called Strider, from the North. I am hunting Orcs."  
  
The man dismounted gracefully from his horse, holding his spear lightly between two fingers.   
  
The leader drew his sword and looked long and hard upon the face of Aragorn.  
  
"At first I thought that you yourselves were Orcs," He replied. But now I see that it is not so. Indeed, you know little of Orcs if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well armed, and there were many. You would have changed from hunter to prey if ever you had overtaken them. But there is something strange about you, Strider."   
  
His eyes passed over the Man's face again.  
  
"The name does not fit you. But then again, your gear and clothes are queer too. How is it that we passed you by? Did you spring out of the grass? Or are you all elves?"  
  
"Only one of us is an elf," Aragorn answered. "But we come with the favor and the gifts of the Lady of the Wood."  
  
Murmurs from the men on horseback surrounding the leader rose into a muffled roar. It was stopped with the raise of a firm palm. He lowered it.  
  
"Then there is a Lady of the Golden Wood, as old tales tell. Indeed, I am amazed that you escaped her nets," The man admitted. "But still this does not bode in your favor. Emerging alive from her forest indicates you may be net-weavers and socerers, maybe."   
  
He suddenly turned his piercing gaze to fall on Legolas, Gimli, and Aithril. "Why do you not speak, silent ones? Have you lost your tongues?"  
  
Gimli's dark eyes flashed and a growl so low that it was only heard by the elves filtered through his beard. He planted his axe in the ground and leaned upon it, casually.  
  
"Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine, and more besides."  
  
"As it would be," the Man gritted his teeth. "It is common courtesy for the stranger to give his first. But I will humor you; I am Eomer son of Eomund and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark."  
  
"Then Eomer son of Eomund, the Third Marshal of Riddermark, let Gimli the Dwarf Gloin's son warn you against foolish words. You speak of evil that is fair beyond the reach of your thought and only little wit can excuse you."  
  
The lines that were set into Eomer's forehead deepened in rage. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, Master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."   
  
Legolas fit an arrow to his bow quicker than the eye could see and was about to reply rather harshly when he was cut off as soon as he opened his mouth.  
  
Aithril was feeling rather annoyed by this point, and spoke without thinking.   
  
"And if your head was a little emptier, Middle Earth could be stuffed inside with a little room left over for your sorry ass!" She retorted, eyes blazing a ferocious green.  
  
"Silence, wench!" Eomer swept her aside violently with a flick of his spear and Legolas was forced to release his arrow into the sky so it would not pierce her as she fell.   
  
The elf-maiden's skull sounded with an audible crack as it connected with a rock, and she lay still.  
  
The men in Eomer's company winced, and even the Marshal looked a little guilty. He took a step towards her limp form, perhaps to see if she was all right, but froze as a sharp point pressed forcefully into the right side of his neck.   
  
He started to protest. "I was just-"  
  
"You will die if you take another pace closer to her," warned the cool and deadly voice of Legolas.  
  
Eomer's lower lip curled in fury. He brought his spear to the ready and struck a fighting stance.  
  
Things might have turned out even worse if Aragorn had not sprang between them at that moment, knocking the Elf's arrow aside.  
  
"Enough!" he cried. "Your pardon, Eomer! We have been through much and are in dire need to continuing. But will you not hear our tale before you strike?"  
  
"I will," Eomer replied curtly. He lowered his spear to be held in a relaxed grip and leaned upon it, ready for a long story.  
  
(oos: See? I'm hardly concentrating on them at all! Now for the star of our show.... AITHRIL!)  
  
***  
  
"Aithril..... Aithril...."  
  
The red-haired Elf stirred at the sound of her name. "Mom?" she murmured. "Is that you?"  
  
"Aithril. Find the Ring-Bearer and his companion."  
  
"Mom?" Aithril questioned again, struggling to remain concious. She weakly peaked out form beneath long lashes and saw only a bright, hospital-white that near blinded her.  
  
"Am I dead?"  
  
The voice, which had been deadly solemn up until this point, chuckled merrily. "No, child. You must find the Ring-Bearer and his companion. Will you do this for me?"  
  
"Yes," Aithril yawned, suddenly exhausted.  
  
"Good." A cool hand lightly passed over her forehead. "Rest now."  
  
The Elf-maiden was already fast asleep.  
  
***  
  
"Come, Mr. Frodo!" Sam called over his shoulder. "I think I may have found a passage out."  
  
"Excellent," Frodo replied dutifully. He had long grown used to uttering such useless replies. The Ring-Bearer cringed, waiting for his faithful friend to say the next line in their familiar script, and he was not disappointed.  
  
"Never mind..." Sam huffed as Frodo rounded the corner. They were looking down into a valley sealed off on three sides that was filled with an impossible number of sharp obsidian spikes. "Looks like another dead-end." He sighed, scanning the sea of black rocks quickly.  
  
Frodo sighed in return and turned away when a flash of light grey caught his eye. He whipped back around, certain it was something after them, a Dark Servant of Sauron. The grey splotch among the black remained still and looked like flesh.  
  
"What is it?" Sam cried, alarmed.   
  
"What is that?" The older Hobbit muttered, pointing it out for Sam.   
  
"I don't know, sir." The companion answered, his voice quiet even for a whisper. It trembled with fear.  
  
"Let's leave." The cloak of Lothlorien swirled around his ankles as he turned to go and Sam felt himself unexplainably drawn to the grey figure.  
  
"Mr. Frodo! Please, I think we should go see what it is."   
  
A note of desperation in his voice halted Frodo in his tracks. He regarded the younger Hobbit thoughtfully.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I- I don't know, sir." Sam said. "Please! Trust me on this!" He sounded more certain.  
  
"Alright." Frodo gave in easily; he didn't have the strength for such arguements. "Let's take a look."  
  
Thankfully, the grey figure was relatively close, so there was no chance of the Hobbits getting lost. Inch by inch, they climbed down into the valley, hardly daring to breathe lest they awaken It.  
  
When they were only about a quarter of a league from the body - now their nightmares had made them positive of this fact - Sam noticed bright red blood oozing from beneath it. The cause was obvious; the body was impaled on an extrordinarily sharpened rock.  
  
"I think it's most definitely dead, sir." He said unnecessarily.  
  
"Indeed." Frodo replied grimly. "A bit closer now."  
  
He edged warily towards the corpse until he was only a few steps away. Giant, lifeless eyes, like those of a cave-dweller's, stared at him blankly from a grey shruken head that had obviously been exposed for the brief rain that had fallen the night before.  
  
Sam shuddered as the Ring-Bearer examined the thing more closely. At last, he pulled away and announced, "I do believe it's Gollum."  
  
There was a short period of silence in which they absorbed this news.  
  
"I d-did hear a scream the day before yesterday." Sam shared, gulping like a fish. "Though I do wonder what caused him to fall like that."  
  
"I also wonder that." Frodo said gravely. "But it is easier on my mind now that Gollum isn't stalking us so." He glanced around, noticing the absense of even the crows and vultures. "Perhaps we should leave before the reason takes care of us also."  
  
"Let's." answered Sam heartily and the pair retracted their steps to find themselves back on the valley's edge.  
  
***  
  
The Forest the Merry and Pippin had entered did not exactly feel friendly. It was dark, and tangled, and as their immediate fear of being followed by Orcs diminished, they became aware of the lack of air- or perhaps just the thickness of it.  
  
"We can't go on like this," Merry finally huffed. He squatted down to drink from a leave covered in dew.   
  
Pippin flopped down onto the ground, exhausted.  
  
"Merry, I'm tired." He complained.  
  
The other Hobbit cuffed him good-naturedly. "It's the air," He explained. "I'm having difficulty breathing myself."   
  
Pippin rubbed the back of his head (oos: AWWWWW! SO KAWAII!) absentmindedly and stared all around. He abruptly squinted.  
  
"What it is, Pip?" Merry caught the look of puzzlement in his friend's eyes.   
  
"Is that a patch of sunlight?"  
  
Merry strained his eyes and was able to catch sight of the feebly glowing light.  
  
"Let's have a look!" Merry replied eagerly. The Hobbits began their long trek and discovered the distance between them and the light was larger and more tedious than they had previously assumed.  
  
Finally, Merry staggered into the sunlight. "Ah..." he sighed.   
  
Pippin nearly fell on top of him as he collapsed into the sunlight.  
  
"It's rather beautiful here..." He murmured, half-blinded by the cheerful sunlight. "Let's go take a look from above." he suggested, pointing to a tree.  
  
Merry nodded and, pulling himself vertical, jumped onto a lower branch. Pippin followed, trying not to look down (for Hobbits are not all-together too fond of heights). He had nearly lost this battle and was about to tell Merry he was climbing back down when the other Hobbit called, "Look, Pippin! It's a fine sight for sore eyes!"   
  
With new determination, he scrambled up the top-most branches and emerged with a gasp into fresh air. The good news was that, from above, the forest looked breath-taking, the opposite of what lay beneath the canopy.  
  
The bad news summarized the fact that clouds were blowing in.  
  
"I'm afraid this is only a passing gleam, and it will all go grey again," said Pippin. "What a pity! This shaggy old forest looked so different in the sunlight. I almost felt I liked the place."  
  
"Almost felt you liked the forest! How good! How uncommonly kind of you!" said a strange voice. "Turn round and let me have a look at your faces. I almost feel that I dislike you both, but do not let us be hasty. Turn around!"  
  
A large, knarled hand turned them gently, but irresistably around.  
  
***  
  
"Aithril? Aithril! Please wake!" Legolas pleaded. His fair face was drawn with worry.  
  
To his relief, her eyes flickered open and recognized the Elf almost immediately.  
  
"Legolas!" she smiled up at him, emerald eyes twinkling. "I had thought I would never see-"   
  
Her lips were captured in his own as he kissed her. Her eyes widened in suprise before they relaxed, filled with happiness. Legolas withdrew quickly, embarassed, as he realized the amused audiance he had gained and cleared his throat.  
  
"Well," Aithril said, once she had caught her breath. "If that's going to happen every time I hit my head, maybe I'll do it more often."   
  
Legolas's mouth opened to protest even as she winked mischeviously at him. He snapped it shut without a word.  
  
Aragorn patiently explained all she had missed as she wobbled unsteadily to her feet with Legolas's help.  
  
"And that's very grand and all," Aithril sighed, shaking her head to clear away the cloud that still hovered there. "But I must be going."  
  
"What?!" Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli cried all at once. Everyone turned to stare at Gimli and his face reddened behind his beard. "What?" he mumbled.  
  
Aithril grinned at the aghast faces and held up her hands to pacify them.  
  
"I must go to find Frodo and Sam. While I was asleep...." She sought words to explain it, then shrugged. "Trust me on this. I have to leave to guide them."  
  
"But- but- it's dangerous!" Legolas cried, crushing her into an anxious hug.  
  
"That's half the reason it must be done," She answered simply, tightening her grip around him.   
  
The Elf-Maiden turned to Eomer, a frown hovering about her features in remembrance of his earlier actions. "Have you a horse I can borrow?"  
  
"Of course, M'lady," He replied stiffly and whistled to a Rider. He nearly fell over in his struggle to breathe quietly.  
  
"Someone needs to get laid..." Aithril murmured to Aragorn and he choked, entering a 'coughing spasm' that continued even as she mounted the blue roan mare that was brought out to her.  
  
"Her name is Berry," a soldier piped up and a smile graced Aithril's lips.  
  
"Goodbye," She said softly to the portion of the Fellowship she was leaving behind.  
  
"Have a safe journey," Aragorn commented, and her smile widened.  
  
"I'll try to be back soon."  
  
Legolas watched, his heart breaking as she rode away, not breaking his gaze until she was a speck in the distance.  
  
***  
  
Aragorn could not get the prophecy out of his head as they were presented with horses from Eomer.  
  
*In a time far beyond our own,   
  
From a different land and different home,   
  
An elf will come that is the one,   
  
None will be right till her deed is done.  
  
Blood is the color of her hair,  
  
Her face is perilous and fair,   
  
Dark green is the color of her eyes,   
  
Do not fear; they speak no lies.  
  
She will help achieve the quest,   
  
Set upon the very best   
  
Of dwarves, elves, and bravest men,   
  
Together, a Fellowship of Ten.*  
  
oos: Holy CRAP! LONG CHAPPIE! lol, I hope you enjoyed it. I'll try to update soon, but no guarentees! 


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